


your arm around me

by theonlytwin



Series: i say it will rain on us again [5]
Category: Shichinin no Samurai | Seven Samurai (1954)
Genre: I mean tied wrists nothing fancy, Multi, PWP, Shibari, ronin gotta make do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23909293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytwin/pseuds/theonlytwin
Summary: He imagines his hands are tied down.
Relationships: Kyuzo/Katsushiro/Kikuchiyo
Series: i say it will rain on us again [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710973
Kudos: 7





	your arm around me

When Katsushiro was young, he was friends with a boy a few years older than him. 

Himura was slim and clever, quick witted - always telling jokes. 

His father, a samurai, had sent him to train with Katsushiro, to learn from the same archer - Hase, a barrel chested, genial warrior who had taught Katsushiro’s brother.

Katsushiro wanted to impress Himura, and Hase, to have good things to tell his brother and father - but Himura was always a little stronger, a little better. Hase was encouraging to them both, clear in his instructions, disciplined - but he favoured Himura. He did special training with him, in the mountains. Katsushiro was jealous, but he saw sense. Himura was the superior archer.

He was kind about it too - unconceited and happy to join Katushiro in a walk through the hills or visit to the stables. Katsushiro admires not only his physical skill but that he always seemed to know what to say to people to charm them. 

He was the first boy Katsushiro wrote poems about.

***

After the onsen, they sleep side by side in a room with four other men.

If he could, Katsushiro would intertwine his legs with Kikuchiyo’s, cover his chest with kisses, press his body open and fuck him as he taught him to. Kyuzo would be against his back, stroking Kikuchiyo, so tenderly - but they can’t.

They won’t have privacy for two more nights at least, won’t have the space for that vulnerability, that intimacy, again, not until they are home. 

Katsushiro must settle for slipping his little finger under Kikuchiyo’s hand, and being satisfied to have him not pull away.

He wants so badly to kiss him, to touch him, to reassure him that he is loved, to love him. He feels as though he may cry.

He imagines his hands are tied down. He cannot move to embrace Kikuchiyo because he is physically restrained. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but finds himself flexing his fingers, as if he were truly bound. Suddenly, he feels tortuously hot, shaky, starting to harden within his hakama. The image of him fucking Kikuchiyo is supplanted by Kikuchiyo fucking him, holding his hands down, Kyuzo sliding his cock into Katsushiro’s mouth, staring down at him with his eyes like fire - fingers in his hair - 

He rolls onto his side, facing Kikuchiyo, lets his hand fall onto the crook of Kikuchiyo’s elbow. Surely no one will notice. The lights are already out. One of the other men is snoring. 

Kikuchiyo turns his head toward Katsushiro, grins, teeth glinting in the gloom. Just beyond Kikuchiyo is Kyuzo, his half-closed eyes glittering. 

He will not have to dream forever. 

***

One morning, after sword training with Katsushiro’s brother, Himura asks his company to visit the market that has been set up at the edge of town. 

“There’s nothing there we can’t give you,” Katsushiro says, sensitive of being a good host. 

“I wish to purchase a gift,” Himura ducks his head, and Katsushiro’s heart beats a little faster. 

***

Kikuchiyo sits up, quietly, gets to his feet. Without looking back, he walks out of the room.

Katsushiro blinks. He’s left the door open.

Kyuzo glances at him, and follows, making no noise.

Someone snorts, rolls over. Katsushiro clambers up, walks to the door. He can’t see them, so he slides the door shut and pauses, listening. 

First he can only hear his own breath - and then, from the dark, a sigh.

He walks to the edge of the torchlight in the courtyard, tips his head. Something rustles in the still night. Katsushiro steps into the dark, closes his eyes a moment to adjust. When he opens them again, he can see pale shapes, slight but distinctive movement.

There’s a wet, slick noise. He gets closer, and the sight resolves itself into Kyuzo leaning against the wall, Kikuchiyo on his knees, hands holding Kyuzo’s hips. 

He comes up, bumps into them, kisses Kyuzo’s face and neck, trying to find his mouth. Kikuchiyo catches his hand, folds their fingers together. He can barely see but can clearly imagine the soft, serious look Kikuchiyo gets on his face when he is sucking Kyuzo’s cock.

Katsushiro gets lower, bites Kikuchiyo’s shoulder through his clothes, gropes between his legs - slides his fingers along the curve of Kikuchiyo’s arse, presses himself to Kikuchiyo’s hip. 

He may come just from proximity, from friction, from the tiny sounds Kikuchiyo’s mouth makes around Kyuzo. 

Kikuchiyo shudders, pushes his own hakama down, fumbles for Katsushiro’s. Kyuzo pulls back, and Kikuchiyo makes a plaintive noise - but Kyuzo sinks down too, and fixes a hand around each of them. 

The hot, soft skin of Kikuchiyo’s belly and Kyuzo’s firm, clever fingers prove to be too much. 

He comes first, and buries his face in Kyuzo’s chest to keep from yelling. Kyuzo stiffens under him - Kikuchiyo has finished him off. Katsushiro drops, hands on the rough wooden boards, takes Kikuchiyo into his mouth, and despite the strange angle, despite the fact that he can barely move, just rocking in place, it feels wonderful. 

They both have their hands on him, someone squeezing the back of his neck, someone stroking his spine, and when Kikuchiyo thrusts into his mouth, he groans - the most noise any of them have made. 

Kikuchiyo comes then, a quiet, “Ha,” escaping him as Katsushiro swallows. 

Gradually, they will straighten up, re-order their clothes, re-enter their room and go to sleep, properly this time. 

For the moment, Katusushiro lets himself slump against Kyuzo and touch a shaking hand to Kikuchiyo’s face in the dark. 

***

Himura had wandered the stalls, apparently disinterested in many of the wares. There were combs and fans and knives engraved with patterns, brightly printed clothes and carved toys. 

Katsushiro enjoyed touching all these interesting things, talking to merchants about their craft. He purchased a painted fan for his mother and a little wooden horse for his sibling not yet born. His father was sure it was another boy, but Katsushiro wanted a sister - someone to play with, instead of compete with.

At one point, he realised he had lost track of Himura. When he spotted him again, he was slipping a scroll into his sleeve. 

_Oh,_ he thought, excited, _he wants to keep the gift a surprise!_

***

Before they leave Yugawara, Katsushiro visits a tailor.

His purse is heavy with coins his mother pressed on him, out of his grandfather’s sight. It’s not necessary, but it is welcome. 

He gets a new kimono for Kikuchiyo, a rich blue, and picks up a new set of needles for the village.

He is negotiating a bolt of linen that will clothe the children, when he sees a fine, black obi belt - narrow cords braided together. 

It is an impulse to add it to the sale. 

When he re-organises his things to distribute the weight evenly, Kikuchiyo catches the obi belt out of the pile.

“You have some fancy destination we don’t know about?” Kikuchiyo asks, winding it around his waist experimentally.

“No,” he says, holding his hand out. Kikuchiyo gives it over, rolling his eyes. Katsushiro tucks it away.

“You’re not going to wear it?” he says, scratching his chin. “Is it a present?”

Katsushiro can feel himself blushing. “It’s for… us. Maybe. Don’t tell Kyuzo, yet.”

“Us?” he echoes, eyebrows raised.

“Something… private.”

“Little bird,” Kikuchiyo says, slowly. “What are you planning?”

“It’s just - an idea.” Katsushiro can’t believe he’s having this conversation before he’s even really thought about what he wants, but that is Kikuchiyo’s talent - to see what people are thinking before they know they are thinking it. To state what no one else has the confidence to state.

Kikuchiyo starts beaming now, claps his hands together. “Little bird! I’m so proud of you! Having _ideas_!”

“Stop it,” he hisses, though he’s smiling too. 

“I swear myself to silence, until you tell me otherwise,” he says, “but please know,” he leans close, lowers his voice, and if anyone were to walk past, it might look like Kikuchiyo is threatening him, or telling him off, “that I will be thinking about this constantly.”

Katsushiro stays frozen for a moment, eyes wide, chin tucked close to his chest as though he can stem the rising emotion. 

Kikuchiyo starts laughing. “Come on! Kyuzo is waiting!”

***

It is shameful to remember what he did next. To go through Himura’s things, while he was sleeping? Despicable. To do this because he wanted to see the gift he imagined was for him? Contemptible. 

The shame of his action is tied up in the burning humiliation he felt when he unrolled the print, holding it to the moonlight. 

He had imagined calligraphy, some elegant phrase. Instead it is a picture - a man, his hands tied behind his back. He is naked, and peers over his shoulder at another man, a large, dark cock jutting from his open clothes. The clothed man touches the tied man on the shoulder, but that single touch seems incredibly important to Katsushiro - it is a gentle, tender touch. 

Katsushiro is as hard as the men in the print. Katsushiro is a disgrace to his house and name. 

He bites his hand as he pulls himself off, staring down at the picture - the lines of the naked man’s shoulders, his arms pulled back - the other man’s face, focused on his companion. 

When he is done, he rolls the scroll, takes several moments to compose himself. He must return this to Himura’s room. He must pretend none of this happened.

***

They are a half day from home, eating fresh fish Kikuchiyo caught from the river they sit beside. 

Kikuchiyo is still wearing only his small clothes, sitting on the rocks with his long legs drying in the sun. Kyuzo kicks sand over the fire, washes his hands in the river. Katsushiro thinks about the belt in his bag. 

When Kyuzo comes back, he sits by Kikuchiyo, runs the backs of his fingers along his shin. 

Kikuchiyo smiles lazily, tips his face up to the sky. Kyuzo looks over at Katsushiro, eyes bright, and Katsushiro crawls toward them without thinking about it, crouches on the other side of Kikuchiyo’s legs. 

He leans forward, and Kyuzo does too. Katsushiro slides his nose along Kyuzo’s, enjoys being close to him, being profligate with contact. They kiss, slowly, sweetly. 

“My handsome husbands,” Kikuchiyo murmurs, stroking Katsushiro’s arm. 

He links a hand around Katsushiro’s wrist, holding him in place as he puts his mouth on Katsushiro’s neck.

“Oh!” Katsushiro breaks away, remembering. “I had an idea!”

Kikuchiyo frowns at him for a moment. “Oh, the idea!” he says, face clearing.

Kyuzo raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me, just that he has _an idea_.”

“For what?” Kyuzo asks.

“Sex, hopefully!” Kikuchiyo flops back onto the rocks. “If it’s an idea for new fashions, I’m not interested.”

They both look at him.

“Um. It is not fashion.” He gets to his feet, starts to unwrap his things. “I bought - this belt, but I thought - perhaps you could,” he swallows, “tie my hands… behind me. And then… fuck me?”

He is red and hot by this cool river. 

“Katsushiro,” Kikuchiyo sits up, “it would be my pleasure.”

But Kyuzo is the one frowning, now. “Why?”

Katsushiro clutches the obi belt in his sweaty palms. “It’s? Exciting?”

“To be restrained?”

He nods. 

Kikuchiyo punches Kyuzo in the shoulder. “Different things excite different people. Some people like women! Some people like being told they’re scum! Some people like two men at once, apparently. Some people like being tied up.”

“What if something happens? What if we must - move quickly, and you are tied?”

“We wouldn’t do it out here,” Kikuchiyo says, as though it were obvious - though Katsushiro had wanted to, with the sun on his skin and rushing water nearby. “At home, at night. We’re safe at home, aren’t we?”

Kyuzo nods, still frowning. 

“If you do not like it, we won’t,” Katsushiro says, coming to sit with them again. “It was only an idea. I don’t need - we don’t need to.”

“I’d like to,” Kikuchiyo says. “Maybe you can watch, with your sword at the ready, in case anything happens.” He’s teasing, but Katsushiro feels the same shame he felt when he first saw Himura’s print. 

“No, it was a bad idea. I’m sorry.” He winds up the belt, feels like throwing it into the river.

Kyuzo puts his hand out, touching the inside of Katsushiro’s wrist with the tips of his fingers. “It’s not a bad idea. I simply - it gave me pause.”

“It gave me a stiff cock,” says Kikuchiyo, flatly.

Kyuzo ignores him. “I would like to watch,” he says, quietly. “When we are home. Tonight?”

Katsushiro heaves a breath in, forces his hands to go loose. “Tonight.”

Kikuchiyo runs a hand down his back. “Would you like me to fuck you now anyway?”

Katsushiro laughs, startled. He shakes his head. 

“I don’t think - no. Thank you, no.”

Kikuchiyo nods, kisses his cheek. “Tonight,” he says.

They stay in the sun a little while more, Kikuchiyo with his head in Katushiro’s lap, Kyuzo curled into his outflung arm. 

Sometimes, Katsushiro thinks he would be happy with only this - the three of them, sprawled together, calm.

Then Kyuzo makes a soft noise that Katsushiro associates with sex, and he remembers that he wants this, and everything else too.

Perhaps he is greedy.

Perhaps he is just lucky.

He can’t bring himself to mind, very much.

***

After seeing the scroll, Katsushiro could barely look at Himura. 

It was shame - and an ember of desire, which would take him years to recognise. At the time, he was simply very awkward and uncomfortable.

Himura had only a week left with them, having become competent enough an archer that his father had written to send him home. Katsushiro wonders if he knew this when he bought the scroll. 

He does present a gift to Katsushiro, before he leaves - a whetstone for his blades. 

Katsushiro cannot tell if he is relieved or not.

Himura gives the scroll to Hase, who holds it to his heart, smiling. 

_Oh,_ he thinks. 

***

They are back in the village before dusk. Some of the children spot their return, so they are greeted by a chorus of demands, “Did you bring us anything?” and “Did you see any monsters?” and “I have been practicing my kendo, master, come see!”

Mosuke waves from behind the pack of children. Kikuchiyo hauls up one on each arm, stomps off, and most trail after him. Kyuzo is watching Shinsuke’s kendo form. Katsushiro hands over what he bought, and most of the money. Mosuke knows better than him what the village needs. 

Kyuzo collects water to wash, Kikuchiyo goes off to bother Rikishi for food, and Katsushiro is left in their house, folding away their things, coiling the belt and putting it by the sleeping mats. 

It’s not that he thinks they’ll forget. 

He’s not sure what he thinks.

Kyuzo returns with a full bucket, and they both clean off the grime of travel.

Kikuchiyo comes in with rice balls, holds one out. Katsushiro takes it, begins to eat, slowly.

“Have you been tied before?” he asks, suddenly.

Katsushiro shakes his head, mouth full.

“You may,” Kikuchiyo stops, scratches the back of his neck, hums. “You may not like it. You tell me, and we’ll stop.”

“You wanted to,” he says, faltering. 

“I do.” He looks at Kyuzo, shrugs. “But if you don’t want to, I don’t. It’s no fun upsetting you.”

Katsushiro covers his mouth. When he first met Kikuchiyo, he only saw an uncaring lout - the kind of man who swore and swaggered to cover up for some lack or failing. Now he knows that he’s covering up a soft heart. He cares so strongly that Katsushiro is astonished at himself for missing it.

***

Kikuchiyo tells him to strip. Katsushiro does, happily, but when he reaches for the edges of Kikuchiyo’s kimono, he shakes his head.

“Not yet.”

Katsushiro shivers. Had he seen the same print, from all those years ago? Has he done this for other men?

Kikuchiyo tucks a hand behind his neck, kisses him on the mouth - firm, driving all the thoughts from his head. 

He breaks away, leaving Katsushiro gasping. He turns to Kyuzo, who is kneeling on the mat, watching them.

“Like what you see?”

The corner of Kyuzo’s mouth tips up. 

“He loves being on his knees for us, have you noticed?” Kikuchiyo murmurs into Katsushiro’s ear as he walks behind him. 

“He’s beautiful,” Katsushiro says, gazing down at Kyuzo, who glows with pleasure.

“Wrists, now,” Kikuchiyo says, and Katsushiro puts his arms behind his back, palms together.  
“You want to give yourself more space,” Kikuchiyo tells him, and tugs his hands apart.

As Kikuchiyo fastens the belt around his wrists, Katsushiro sighs, and Kyuzo’s eyes flicker up and down his body. He is entirely exposed, naked and bound, but safe, between two warriors, two honourable men, fully clothed and watching him flush, watching his cock harden - 

“Sit,” Kikuchiyo says, gently. 

A little awkwardly, Katsushiro sits. There’s a rustle as Kikuchiyo sits behind him. His hot hands start to run over Katsushiro’s arms, his shoulders, up into his hair - he unravels Katsushiro’s topknot.

“You should grow this out,” Kikuchiyo scratches his fingers across Katsushiro’s scalp, and he moans, eyelids fluttering shut. “You don’t need a haircut to tell you you’re a man. We know,” he flattens a hand over Katsushiro’s heart, flicks one nipple, draws him back to kiss his neck, “we know you’re a man, don’t we, Kyuzo?”

Katsushiro opens his eyes and Kyuzo is on his hands and knees, coming closer. 

“Oh,” Katsushiro says, as Kyuzo touches his knee and Kikuchiyo bites his ear. “Oh, oh!”

He wants to kiss Kyuzo, to hold him - but he can’t, he can only wait as Kyuzo lowers his head into Katsushiro’s lap, nuzzling against his hard cock. 

“He wants to suck you off - you want that?” Kikuchiyo says, breath hot on the side of his face. 

“Y-yes,” Katsushiro stutters, and before he’s even finished the word, Kyuzo is swirling his tongue around the head of Katsushiro’s cock.

“Yes,” Kikuchiyo says, and he fists a hand in Katsushiro’s hair. 

Kyuzo works his way down slowly, taking a little more of him bit by bit, until Katsushiro feels that he may cry. Kikuchiyo has removed his clothes, at some point, and lounges on his side, curled around Katsushiro, watching.

“So clever, isn’t he? His mouth feels so good. You look amazing, you know that? Both of you, beautiful bastards, I love to look at you.”

His hand is running up and down Katsushiro’s arm, Kyuzo swallows around his length, throat working - he comes, almost surprised by it, a little wail spilling out of his lips.

Katsushiro sags sideways, mostly onto Kikuchiyo, tries to kiss as much of Kyuzo as he can reach. 

“Thought you’d like that,” Kikuchiyo says, and Katsushiro nods, but Kyuzo is nodding too.

“I didn’t realise,” Kyuzo says, and Kikuchiyo laughs. 

They lean toward one another - Kikuchiyo on the ground, Kyuzo craning over Katsushiro’s thigh, and they kiss.

Katsushiro watches them until he begins to squirm. 

“Please,” he says, his voice small.

“Do you want me to untie you?” Kikuchiyo says, sitting up.

“Fuck me first,” Katsushiro blurts, blushing.

Kikuchiyo pauses, strokes his face. “So eager,” he says, gently, and kisses him, almost chastely. “Lie on your side. Kyuzo will give you his lap.”

He rests his head on Kyuzo’s thigh, face pressed to his clothes, and props a leg up to give Kikuchiyo access. The smell of clove oil is intoxicating, as is the familiar press of Kikuchiyo’s fingers, and the warm pulse of Kyuzo’s cock beneath his ear.

As Kikuchiyo opens him, he mouths at Kyuzo, clumsy, Kyuzo running his hands through his hair as though it doesn’t matter. 

When Kikuchiyo draws his fingers out, Katsushiro whimpers, and lets himself be rearranged as Kyuzo undresses. 

He is upright, on his knees, facing Kyuzo’s cock. 

“If you need to stop, open your fists - like this,” Kikuchiyo flattens a hand against Katushiro’s.

Katsushiro folds his fingers around Kikuchiyo’s. “Thank you,” he says, breathless.

“Huh,” Kikuchiyo says, “save your thanks.” He pushes Katsushiro forward with a hand between his shoulder blades, so Katsushiro opens his mouth around Kyuzo, groans as Kikuchiyo slips into him, feeling large and right and powerful. Kyuzo fills his mouth, and Katsushiro barely has to move - they have him, between them. 

He is dizzy, blood thumping through his body - Kikuchiyo snaps his hips, Katsushiro’s cry is muffled by Kyuzo, who thrusts into him, comes, spilling against the back of his tongue and throat.

Katsushiro droops, and Kyuzo folds to the floor, supports his torso as Kikuchiyo fucks faster, faster, wordless, breathless behind him. 

By the time Kikuchiyo comes - a strangled shout and push of heat - Katsushiro is hard again.

Kyuzo laughs a little, wraps a hand around him - Katsushiro cries out. 

“Damn,” Kikuchiyo mumbles, as he pulls, slowly out, head pressed to his shoulder. 

“Please, please,” Katsushiro chants, because that’s all he can say.

Kyuzo spits into his fingers, doubles his speed. Kikuchiyo is fumbling at the knots tying his wrists, and Katsushiro catches his hands, holds them.

They are all linked this way when Katsushiro comes again, feeling as though it has been wrenched out of the very core of him.

***

When Katsushiro wakes in the morning, the belt is coiled up near the sleeping mat. Kikuchiyo is snoring, sprawled half off the mat, a hand on Katsushiro’s belly. Kyuzo is sitting up, sipping water beside them. 

“Are you going to train?” Katsushiro asks, yawning, putting a hand out to pet at Kyuzo. 

“In a moment,” Kyuzo says, stroking a thumb along the underside of his wrist. 

Katsushiro thinks he might write a poem, today.


End file.
